The Breaking of Tensions
by america-is-gay
Summary: An old one shot I wrote! After a hectic World Conference, Alfred F. Jones takes a walk through a nearby park, where he is approached by Russia, who wants to talk things out, but it becomes more than just talking.


After the World Conference, all Alfred F. Jones wanted to do was be alone. He wanted to think and enjoy the silence. Hence the reason he was walking through a small London park at 11:23 at night. The crisp autumn air felt nice in his lungs, and the comforting smell of fall was everywhere. His breath came out in white puffs. And, for the first time in years, Alfred felt at peace. Almost.

His mind was burdened with worry. Worry, worry, worry. For the past four years, that's all his life had been.

The Russians had ended the blockade. Al thought that would help relieve tensions, even a bit. No. Now they had an a-bomb. Now the Chinese were joining the Communist Circus. Everything was just getting worse.

"From Stettin in the Baltic to Trieste in the Adriatic, an iron curtain has descended across the continent." The words kept echoing in his head. America knew that he, as the most powerful nation in the world, was responsible for lifting this "iron curtain" England's boss had mentioned.

But how? How as he supposed to reason with a group of people so unreasonable? He and Russia were locked in a dangerous dance on the edge of a knife. One of them missed a step, and the world would end. The worst part of it all was that Alfred just felt powerless. He couldn't stop it.

"Damn commies..." he muttered, stopping to rub his temple in an attempt to ease the pressure in his head.

Then there were footsteps. Slow, steady footsteps coming from behind. Al looked over his shoulder. And it was him. Straightening, he turned to face him.

"What do you want?" he asked chillingly.

Ivan smiled. The damn freak was always smiling. His smile gave Alfred conflicting emotions, all of which caused his stomach to churn.

"I want nothing but to talk to you, Amerika," Ivan said, still smiling.

"I've had enough talking for today," Al replied gruffly, turning away.

"All we did at the conference is, as you would say, ignore the elephant in the room," Ivan replied, a hint of exhaustion in his voice. For once, Al saw the Soviet in a different light. He saw the bags under his eyes. The droop in his posture. Ivan was as tired as he was. "We're the most powerful nations, and therefore the most responsible. We must talk."

Alfred sighed. "You're right," he said, walking over to a bench. He gestured for the Russian to sit down. It was tense for some time, both of them unsure of what to say. Neither of them wanted to make anything worse than it was. After some time, Al relaxed, crossed his legs, and leaned back to look at the stars, unaware that Ivan was studying his face.

"It's weighing down on you, da?" he asked softly. "All the stress?"

Al furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to object. Then he stopped, crossed his arms, and muttered, "how could you tell?"

Russia smiled sadly and answered, "you weren't eating at the conference. Everyone knew something was amiss."

Alfred Leaned forward, looking at the ground. He ran a hand through his golden hair and looked up at Ivan.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "It's been rough."

"For you and me both, comrade."

After another pause, Al huffed and sat back up.

"Well?" he said irritably. "You followed me out here, dude, now what did you wanna talk about?"

"Ah, yes," Russia mused. "about that. I came here to talk about the relations between my people and yours."

"Yeah, I figured," Al hissed.

"My people have just finished constructing a fully operational atomic bomb. The test of said bomb was successful, and now they're building more. I came here to tell you to leave my people be. The retributions would be both great and swift. Mutually Assured Destruction. I hope you fully know what that means, comrade."

America sat up.

"What?" He spat. "You just came here to threaten me?"

"To admonish, not to threat," Ivan said, iciness creeping into his voice. "I don't intend to threaten you. Amerika, listen. We cannot win. Neither of us can win this game we're in. The only winning move is to destroy and be destroyed. And... I...I don't want to hurt you, Alfred."

Al scoffed. "You don't want to hurt me?" he echoed, voice dripping with scorn. "That's bullshit! You've built a goddamn atom bomb and now you're trying to tell me you don't wanna hurt me?"

Ivan stood up, teeth chattering.

"I did not," he hissed. "My bosses did. Even I can never anticipate their next move. They no longer listen to me. I feel as though you should be to sympathize."

Alfred collapsed into his hands, head pounding.

"Fuck," he mumbled. "What the hell am I supposed to do?"

Ivan's violet eyes studied the young nation. Ivan could not imagine having all this power as young as America was. Something about America had always given Ivan some hope. To see such a young, free, nation...To see such a proud nation with a spark of hope still left in his eye...America's new ideals and opened mindedness symbolized the great changes to come in humanity. However, now the young nation didn't seem as invincible as he had. Now all Ivan wanted to do was scoop him up in his arms and lie. Lie and tell him it'd be okay. Lie and say their bosses would figure things out.

Alfred had never doubted his people. Never. Even during the Civil War, Alfred knew they'd work it out, and they had. But now...He just felt so small. He was the strongest nation in the world, a superpower. But he still felt so small. He couldn't do anything but argue with his boss and be go through the steps of this dance. The worst part of it all was it was just the beginning.

"How do you do it?" Al asked, voice sad and quavering. "How do you look so strong? How can you smile even when everything is falling apart?"

Ivan sat back down cautiously.

"It is a mask, Alfred," Ivan answered, putting a hand on Alfred's shoulder. For once, someone didn't flinch or cry out in pain when Ivan placed a hand on them. "I wear it in the hopes it will spread to my heart, and one day, I will be happy."

Alfred took off his glasses and wiped his eyes, and felt Ivan's arm traverse across his shoulder blades and wrap around him gently. Alfred didn't know what to think. He didn't think. He just turned and collapsed into Ivan's shoulder, weeping openly.

Alfred's display of weakness caught Ivan off-guard and sent his heart racing. Al could hear it beat through his chest. However, after a moment, Ivan's arms wrapped around him, and Al felt safe. Safe and warm.

And then he felt Ivan shake. And heard him take sharp, shaky breaths.

Al began to laugh a shaky, forced, laugh.

"Oh, no," he said, burrowing further into Ivan's chest. "You can't be crying, too."

Ivan didn't answer but gripped Al tighter and buried his head in Al's hair.

And like that they stayed. Even after they had cried their last tears, neither of them wanted to spoil it. Al was perfectly content staying in Ivan's arms, enjoying his warmth and breathing in his scent.

Ivan was happy to have someone just to...hug. All his life had been cold. Winter followed him wherever he went, it seemed. And he needed warmth. He needed the touch and love of another being. He cried, a mix of joyful weeping and sorrowful lamentation. He cried all the tears he could never cry before.

After Ivan's breathing regulated and he calmed down, Alfred felt him give him a gentle kiss on the forehead.

Warmth budded out from the kiss and spread over Alfred's body. And he was happy. Happy for the first time in years.

Almost unwilling, Al sat up, and looked Ivan in the eye.

"Thank you," Al said, unsure of what else to say. He wiped Ivan's tears away with his sleeve, and pulled his head close against his chest, before kissing him on the forehead and then letting him go.

Alfred studied the Russian's face. His violet eyes, silver hair, pink lips. Ivan just smiled. They looked into each others' eyes for a long while. Then Ivan bit his lip, and Alfred rushed forward and crashed his lips into Ivan's. And they kissed. It was a long, slow, breathless kiss, neither of them thinking of anything. Warmth flooded their bodies, and their hearts seemed to slow, when they were really racing.

And they were both happy.


End file.
